


Tenacious as a Bulldog, Stubborn as a Mule

by watcherofworlds



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:26:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7810750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watcherofworlds/pseuds/watcherofworlds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sarah Rogers recieves the news that her husband Joseph has been killed on the front lines of World War One, she is devastated-and terrified. She doesn't know how she will manage to raise a child on her own in such a chaotic, war torn world, but she promises herself that she will not give up and that she will be strong-tenacious as a bulldog, stubborn as a mule. As time goes on, she teaches her young son Steven to live by that principle, and it becomes their personal motto, and that motto will help to make Steven into the man he will become.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad News

Sarah Rogers sat on her bed, struggling to read the letter in her hand through the tears in her eyes. She only got as far as “We regret to inform you that your husband Joseph was killed in the line of duty” before she couldn’t read any more. She clutched the letter to her chest and doubled over, hunched over her unborn child as if she could somehow protect him or her from her pain.

“I _told_ him not to do it,” she muttered. “I told him, I told him, I told him.”

For the first time in her life, being right didn’t make her feel better.

 _What am I going to do?_ she thought. _What kind of world is this to bring a child into?_ She glanced down at the letter and added _A child that is now fatherless?_

She’d expressed similar concerns to Joseph when he’d made the decision to enlist.

“You can’t do this,” she told him. “What if you get killed? What then? I won’t have our child grow up fatherless.”

  Joseph had merely laughed and told her, with the kind of confidence that only a man in his twenties could possess, that nothing was going to happen to him, and that before she knew it the war would be over and they would be together again, one big happy family.

   But he’d been wrong, and now he was never coming home. Sarah couldn’t help feeling like it was her fault. If she’s just tried a little harder to convince him…

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, curling into a fetal position. “I’m so sorry. You’re going to grow up without a father, and it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.” She wrapped her arms around her knees and began rocking back and forth, trying to stave off the sobs threatening to choke her.

“Can you hear me Joseph?” she asked. “I accept this burden. I won’t let my grief rule me. I will be a good mother to our child.”

 _I’ll take care of you, don’t worry,_ she promised that child silently. _I won’t give up. I will be strong for your sake. For both of our sakes._

Then she cried herself to sleep, the letter still clutched in her hand.


	2. Late Night Lullaby

Sarah was woken in the middle of the night by the sound of her son crying. She swung her legs out of bed and went to his crib in the corner of her bedroom.

“Sssh Stevie, sssh,” she whispered, bouncing him gently in her arms. “It’s okay. Mommy’s here. Sssh.”

Her soothing words did nothing to quiet her son. He continued to cry, interrupted only by the hacking coughs that shook his small frame. Worse than the coughing was the fever; Sarah could feel him burning in her arms. Her forehead creased in a worried frown, and she sighed heavily. Steven must have felt the movement because he squirmed in the protective circle of his mother’s arms. Desperate to calm him in any way possible, Sarah started humming absentmindedly. Amazingly, it seeemed to work. For a moment Steven quieted, but the second Sarah stopped humming he started crying. She began singing softly to him in Gaelic, a song her mother had sung to her when she was a girl. If she had ever known its name, she had long since forgotten it, but she thought it seemed appropriate. The lyrics promised Steven that angels were coming to watch over his sleep, and told him to listen to the wind blowing. The wind in particular was a significant part of their lives-it could almost always be heard whistling through the courtyard outside their apartment building, often even over the noise of the city beyond.

By the second repetion of the song, Steven had stilled. By the third, he had fallen silent except for the coughs that continued to rattle his fragile frame. By the fourth, he had fallen asleep, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Sarah sagged with relief and exhaustion. She hadn’t realized just how tired she was until that moment. She kissed her son on the forehead and layed him back in his crib. 

“Sleep well, my darling,” she whispered, then climbed back into her bed and allowed sleep to claim her once more.


End file.
